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Fourteen Clubs and the Auld Claret Jug
The Caddies' Inside Stories of Winning
the British Open
By Norman Dabell
Contemporary Books, 2001
ISBN: 0-8092-9331-5, $21.95
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The wind, of course, is always a concern at St. Andrews. So was John Daly's insistence on hitting driver all the way around the Old Course, come Hell Bunker or Swilcan Burn.
Headed into Sunday, Caddie Greg Rita's had other worries. There was Saturday's near disaster on 18 when Daly almost drove his ball up the clubhouse steps of the R&A. There was the evaporation of his lead from the first two days into a four-stroke deficit. But his primary concern was whether Daly would get enough chocolate chip muffins!
This, it turns out, is not exactly atypical. Sherpa, amateur psychologist, friend and whipping boy, scratch a good pro caddie and you find the detail savvy of an event planner, concierge or political advance man. [For more on this see 'Split the Difference' - at the bottom of 'Yardage Book.']
Given the adverse publicity surrounding the venerable profession of late, the tales provided here by the 14 men and one woman (Fanny) who can justly claim "we" won the Open offer a refreshing breath of candor, modesty, insight and enthusiasm for their work.
Some - those with Seve mostly - often found themselves hanging on for dear life. Others, as Pete Bender describes with Ian Baker-Finch at Birkdale in 1981, rode their man with jockey-like finesse.
"I'm one caddie who likes to be put in every situation there is out there during a round. I love the pressure," he tells Norman Dabell. He disdains what he calls the 'yes' caddie. "You know the sort: the player will say to him, 'Is it a four-iron?' and he'll say, 'Yes.' 'Is it downwind?' - 'Yes.' - 'Is it right edge?' - 'Yes.' That doesn't work. Those sort of caddies never prove themselves. I'm not afraid to make a mistake."
The thrill of the hunt and the caddie's delicate balancing act come through loud and clear. So many oral histories don't bother to do their homework, not putting events in context. The result: transcripts that come out flat and disjointed. By contrast, the author, who covered many of these championships, skillfully paints the picture. The stories develop smoothly, with a sense of the occasion.
When Justin Leonard's caddie Bob Riefke says "It was exciting choosing the irons," the reader senses the excitement and strategy required of links golf at the highest level.
The detail is rich. Sandy Lyle was "a bit cheesed off" because he couldn't tell the sex of the streaker Peter Jacobsen tackled on the cusp of his victory at St. George's. After he hit his last drive, he turned to caddie Dave Musgrove. Holding out his hands, Lyle said, "Look, they're steady, no shakes."
Seve is a special case. Those familiar with his remarkable run of "destino" will especially enjoy the remembrances. "What's the best advice you'd give about working with Seve?" Ian Wright asks some of the Spaniard's former loopers before signing on. They all told him the same thing, "Don't!"
He disregarded them and saw it all from the inside. If there's one player who emerges in a positive light, it would have to be Nick Price, who provides a sentimental reflection of Squeeky Medlin, and their win at Turnberry. Few players and caddies were so close. He says they'd still talk daily, even if Squeeky were alive but retired.
After winning with Seve at Lytham, Wright was in the locker room kicking back with a bottle of bubbly and some caddie pals when Price walked in. Wright invited him over. "I'd really appreciate if you'd have a glass of champagne with me, Nick, for the way you played against us today.' Nick said he would. "That showed the character of Nick Price. He must have been feeling terrible, but he joined in the celebrations."
If there's a common bond in these stories, it might be that the caddies, for various reasons, invariably miss the moment of triumph. Andy Prodger had to hustle back to his mum's house to watch over the new central heating going in. He got a few beers on the night train. Seve always disappeared. Fanny did get to hold the trophy at St. Andrews in 1990, though she knew her place. She declined the fans' call to join her man on the stand. Greg Rita did get to sit on the Swilcan Bridge with Daly and the Claret Jug. Daly got his chocolate chip muffins, after all. Holding the jug, Fanny said, "was a dream come true." We can see why.
It's interesting how few of these relationships have survived. But there is no denying the importance of the man (or woman) on the bag. Like umpires, cabbies and waiters, a good caddie must perform in relative obscurity. As Fanny reminds us, "It's the player who plays the shots and hits the putts." Her motto may go a long way in ultimately explaining her longevity, and success, and that of her cohorts.
[From the hearth: See Author! Author! for an excerpt; Andy Martinez gives Tom Lehman a memorable pep talk.]
Duly Noted - Edition I - Shouting at Amen Corner
Duly Noted - Edition II - Precision Putting
Duly Noted - Edition III - In the Women's Clubhouse
Duly Noted - Edition IV - Royal and Ancient
Duly Noted - Edition V - Into the Bear Pit
Duly Noted - Edition VI - The Biography of Walter J. Travis
Duly Noted - Edition VII - Uneven Lies
Duly Noted - Edition VIII - Sir Walter & Mr. Jones
Duly Noted - Edition IX - The Golf Ball Book
Duly Noted - Edition X - Balls!
Duly Noted - Edition XI - To Brookline and Back
Duly Noted - Edition XII - The Golden Era of Golf
Duly Noted - Edition XIII - The Story of Golf in Oklahoma
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